Bryan Fury Speaks - My Favorite Weapon
by CranberryVishnu
Summary: Bryan responds to a question from a reader who wanted to know his favorite weapon - and the last time he used it. His account takes us to a recent event in Paris along the river Seine.


Okay - let's get to it.

I guess you could say I'm pretty goddamn familiar with combat. And on many occasions - I've had plenty of questions about what my favorite weapon is and when I used it last? Well, it won't be pretty - but here's my answer. My favorite weapon is ME. Yeah, that's right - my own bare freakin' hands. Nothing is more dangerous or effective (and if I'm bein' honest), more satisfying to use.

Last time I had to cut loose and do some real damage wasn't all that long ago either. It was right after my brief discussion with Jun Kazama in Paris (I'll post how that went down another time). She had just kicked me across a patio full of fancy little gourmet diners, and by the time I got back on my feet, I realized she had given me the slip. I could hear the sirens already closing in on my location, so I beat it down a side alley. I had all of my street view maps of Paris on my heads up display, so I was able to quickly zig-zag down the winding back alleys and got good and lost.

Once I was sure I had ditched the cops, I stopped and looked around. I was by an old stone walkway that ran along the Sein. Kinda nice and quiet which was fine with me. I leaned on the rail wonderin' why Jun had been so damn hostile. I mean - I know I can be kind of abrasive, but seriously... then I noticed a patch of water was bubblin'. Sorta like it was boiling. I stared at it - scaned it in digital... then thermal - it was the thermal view that confirmed it. Locked in on somethin' really hot - movin' up to the surface fast.

I had about a second to get ready then immediately after some poor, suicidal slob in a high-tech armored power suit, exploded out of the river and slammed into me like a friggin' torpedo. We flew back through a brick wall into what may have been an antique, or now that I think about it - a really shitty souvenir store. We spun through that place like a tornado pulverizing display shelves, glass counters and clothing racks. We both scrambled to our feet crunching on the junk that littered the floor and began to circle each other - looking for openings - sizing up the situation. Then, a panel slid back with a snap on the thing's chest to reveal twin side-by-side miniguns - which I had to admit was pretty fucking cool.

I could just make 'em out in the darkened store, as the light comin' in from the front window slid along the brushed metal of the barrels. At that moment, the sunuvabitch opened up on me and the staccato whine heralded a barrage of burning lead that caught me directly in the chest and blasted me clear across the shop, out through the plate glass window and right the fuck into the middle of the busy street.

People were screamin' and runnin' in every direction as I just lay there not moving - surrounded by broken glass and pieces of cheap-ass ceramic Eiffel Tower replicas, berets and other touristy French bull-shit. Then I saw the mechanical nightmare steppin' through the huge hole in the front of the store headin' my way. Lemme tell ya - it took me everything and I mean - EVERYTHING - I had to simply lie there still and not move. I wanted to draw that sucker in... and that's just what I did. He was leanin' in right over me when out of each arm popped two lethal circular saws.

I could hear the dick-tard who was in the armor talkin' all kinds of smack at me. Somethin' like _"I bring a message from Jin Kazama! Time for you to die Mr. Fury!"_ God whatta joke. But those little choppers on the ends of his hands weren't. They were buzzin' fast and I quickly sensed they could cut through my metal superstructure like butter. Yep, they'd be a real problem if he ever got a chance to use 'em alright. So it was my job to make damn sure he wouldn't get that chance.

I pulled a quick ukeme and was back on my feet in a snap. Before mech-boy could react, I grabbled the bastard in a bear hug pinning those buzz-saw arms at his sides. I was looking right at his one-way reflective face plate and all I could see in it was the reflection of my own face grinning back at me.

 _"Knock knock mutherfucker!"_ I heard myself roar as I cocked my head back then drove my forehead right through the mask shattering it to a thousand pieces. What remained was a doughy little face framed by broken plexiglass, peerin' back at me in shock.

Then - I began to squeeze.

All I remember was his little buttery, spittle coated lips flappin' around, as his face turned beet red. He was stammerin' crap like: _"W-Wait-wait! Please! I… I'll tell you everyth – oh god, you… you gotta lissen to me!"_

Okay dear reader - you've eaten crab legs before, right? Well you know how you need to crack those suckers open to scoop out the soft, tasty meat inside? Yeah… I think you know where I'm goin' with this.

I could hear this punk's little armored suit strainin' and poppin' as I just kept squeezin'. The dude inside had stopped beggin' by this time, and was just gurgling, gaspin' and rattling as the pressure built.

The suit was shootin' out little flames and makin' cracklin' noises then suddenly, one of the spinnin blades popped off and chattered down the cobble stone street makin' little sparks and shit. A few seconds later, I smelled the acrid stinging odor of wires melting and circuits frying as all the internal systems began to fail.

I laughed my ass off as the poor, dumb bastard in the suit began to shake and scream. The screams broke and turned into a weird - almost rhythmic animal sound - Like a poodle barking. I could smell him cookin' in there… It smelled like _victory_.

I decided to end it and bore down applying all my strength. I could now hear the his ribs crack along with the exo-suit as a fountain of blood and chunky shit, I think it was pieces of his lungs, shot out of his mouth with a ragged, death shriek.

I wanted to finish up with a little flair, so I tore open the armor and plunged my fists into his chest and ripped out his heart and what was left of his lungs. I tossed them in the air over my shoulder and went right back in for more. I scattered that shit-heel's spleen, liver and slimy innards all over the street.

God I love my work.

A cop rolled up on an adorable little cop scooter. I swear - _the French_ \- anyway, I jammed my fingers right into the eye holes of robo-boy and ripped his freakin' head right off. Then without warning, I slung it at the little police man. Hit him square in the chest, knocking him off of his stupid scooter.

The Vespa continued on and coasted right up to me like a trained puppy. I was about to hop on it and escape, when I realized something. I was an adult male. No way I'd be caught dead riding one of those silly ass things. I threw the sissyfied ride into the Seine and darted back through the demolished store and lost them in the maze of alleys and backstreets.

Yeah, I know long answer but - that's how it went down. Thanks for the questions.


End file.
